The Panagea Tales Box Set

by McKenzie Austin

  “Curious word for orphanage,” Iani taunted, snickering as he tried to get a reaction out of the chef.

  Penn scowled and sank deeper into his spot though it seemed impossible for him to fall any lower. Rennington swatted his brother on the arm, trying to silence his childish behavior. Though he typically enjoyed Iani’s loutishness, he knew Penn harbored a lot of shame at his history.

  “Orphanage?” Umbriel’s brows rose in curiosity. “Is that not a place where children become wards of their town?”

  Penn looked up, glaring at Iani before he shifted his uncomfortable gaze to Umbriel. “Parents got the black lung. I’d been there since I was about three years old. They put me to work early. I did all the cooking, that’s ... where I learned to cook,” he muttered.

  “Oh, well,” Umbriel sensed his anxiety and shifted the energy from one of pity to one of celebration, “what a wonderful chef you’ve become. Kazuaki is lucky to have you on his staff.”

  The man, who looked painful in his discomfort moments earlier, cracked a small grin. “Aye,” he agreed with a small nod. “That he is.” And Penn was lucky to have them. Though he’d never admit it, they were just as much his family as all his peers in the home. He loved those kids like his own brothers and sisters. Penn gifted the crew with the same loyalty. While he was better equipped with a stove than a sword, he would die for any of them at any moment.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Revi interjected, standing to his feet. “I’ll be needing to take a piss.” He walked away from the campsite and into the woods. He noticed the theme of the evening. One by one, everyone’s stories came to light by the fire, brought forth by Umbriel’s curiosity. He wasn’t eager to share his. A swift exit proved to be the safest escape from having to answer the Earth Mother’s questions.

  His absence did not deter her. In her state of wonder, Umbriel remained eager to learn about her new visitors. A fascination existed in seeing how much people changed in several hundred years. “I hope he returns soon,” she admitted, offering smiles to each of those seated near her. “I’ve enjoyed hearing all of your tales. There’s a magic to what makes a person who they are; though you’ve all faced terrible adversities, I find you to be wonderful people.”

  “Oh, I doubt you’ll get a story out of Revi,” Bartholomew said as he walked around the campfire and scooped up the empty plates.

  “True that, love.” Brack shifted to sit closer to Umbriel. “Man’s ashamed on account’a having left his pregnant wife and six kids to rot in Western.”

  “Gods, Brack!” Bartholomew released the handful of plates with a forceful clank. “Do you ever take a feckin’ breath to think about what you say before it spews out of your mouth?”

  “What?” He shrugged his shoulders, unaffected by Bartholomew’s tirade. “This lovely creature wanted to know. You don’t expect me to just—”

  “I expect you to honor Revi’s privacy,” Bartholomew pointed a stern finger at the man. He noticed the Rabbit edged closer to Umbriel, and the scholar frowned. “And I expect you to keep it in your pants.”

  Brack smirked without apology. “No promises, mate.”

  Bartholomew rolled his eyes and returned to his seat after condensing everyone’s mess into a smaller pile. “It’s rude and lacks chivalry.”

  “So’s killing people and stealing their shit,” Brack said, “but we do that too.”

  Revi returned after his exit and took his seat, happy to see the conversation shifted into mindless banter and some argument between Brack and Bartholomew. The man took a drink and settled into his surroundings once again, relieved he avoided having to discuss what actions lead him to the safety of Kazuaki’s ship.

  “So, we’ve answered all of your questions, Umbriel,” Elowyn said, slicking her hands through her hair to bask in the strong scent of campfire each strand held. “Now tell us, how did you make this place?” She looked around at the forest, filled with towering creations she never laid eyes on before. “There hasn’t been a tree around in a long time, from what I know. This place ... it defies all logic.”

  Umbriel beamed at the inquiry. “Logic has its place in the world,” she said as she leaned over to scoop old soil out of the hollow log she sat on. “But I find that logic often limits the mind to what it already knows.” She cupped the dirt in one open palm and held her other hand over the small soil mound. As she lifted her arm, the firelight illuminated a tiny, green plant. It poked through the soil and reached skyward. It grew, centimeter by centimeter until two little leaves sprouted from the sides. It twisted upward another couple of inches in seconds. Umbriel lowered her arm, sliding the seedling off her palm and atop the moss-covered log. “Logic gives us the tools, but emotion gives us boundlessness. The only thing that hinders a person is the limits within his or her mind.”

  The crew watched as the plant grew from nothing. Umbriel earned herself some open-mouthed stares, to which she blushed.

  “Is it magic?” Brack dared to ask. He questioned his sanity and whether he had too much to drink. They witnessed incredible feats before. It came with the territory when hunting legends. But nature died so long ago; it held an added mysteriousness to it that ignited the Rabbit’s curiosity.

  “No,” Bartholomew answered for Umbriel. He learned a lot from the book, ‘The Balance of the Earth Mother’. He stared at Umbriel as he spoke and hoped she corrected him if he misrepresented her. “It’s an exchange of energy. All a plant needs to grow is a power source and time. She channels her energy into the seed, with which it can flourish. But you lose the energy you give to the plant, is that correct?”

  “Yes,” Umbriel confirmed with a nod of the head. “An Earth Mother can only channel her energy into a plant so far before the needs of the plant outweigh the energy her body possesses," she turned her eyes over to Nicholai. “It’s at that point that time takes over, to continue the nurturing process. They are the two most unstoppable forces when combined ... nature and time.”

  Nicholai looked up and caught her gaze in his. Something about the way she said it made the hair on his arms stand. The two shared a long look until Brack interrupted their connection.

  “Time can’t be too unstoppable, considering Nico shut Southeastern down with the click of a button.”

  Umbriel’s eyes widened, and she gasped. She turned to Nicholai after her hands flew to her mouth in surprise. “You stopped time in your division?”

  Nicholai winced under the pressure. It seemed the captain made just about everyone privy to his crimes. “I did,” he admitted, prepared to take whatever blame Umbriel cast upon him for his sins.

  “For how long?” she questioned.

  The Time Father frowned and tried to recall. Since he left Southeastern, life existed in a blur. Days melted into one another and he had a hard time keeping track. “Um ... one month, two months?” he postured, failing to remember. “I’m sorry, I don’t know exactly.”

  Umbriel’s face took on a grave tone. “I see.” She drew in a quick breath and let it out just as fast. “Then she will disintegrate faster than I feared.”

  Her words were quiet, but Kazuaki heard them. Nicholai grew uncomfortable. He found it odd to announce his crimes after chastising the crew for their own misdoings. He stood from his spot, feeling the weight of his Chronometer around his neck. It mocked him. “I think I’d like to get some rest,” he uttered. Though the man wasn’t tired, he wanted a way out of the conversation, having experienced enough emotional turmoil in one day to satisfy him for a long time.

  “For once, Nico speaks sense,” Kazuaki confirmed, praising and insulting the Time Father in the same breath. “Let us put this evening to rest. Tomorrow we careen the ship. You’ll need all the sleep you can get.”

  A unanimous groan broke out from the crew. They avoided it today and knew it awaited them, but the act of careening stood to be long and tedious. No excitement existed in removing barnacles from a hull. But they had been on the run for so long, finding a safe place to careen the ship remain
ed a rare opportunity. They knew it was necessary while they had the chance.

  One by one, crew members returned to the cockboats, favoring the comfort of their beds to that of a sandy mattress. Brack and Kazuaki loitered near the campfire. Bartholomew glared at Brack as Granite pushed the cockboat back into the deeper waters, his dog swimming circles alongside him.

  “Rabbit,” Bartholomew said, his tone rough. “You coming?”

  Brack waved his hand at Bartholomew to silence him as he leaned closer to Umbriel. “Not if the lady thinks she needs an extra body to warm her bed,” he said with a clever smirk.

  “You are too sweet,” Umbriel replied, her smile soft. “But I needn’t your body for warmth, Brack. I’ve had the warmth of the forest to surround me for hundreds of years.”

  He sat there, slow to accept the rejection. It wasn’t until Kazuaki scowled at him he knew it was time to leave. “Too right. I’ll be off then,” he said, slipping toward the cockboat. “Treat her well, Cappy!” he winked before he took a seat beside his comrades.

  Kazuaki’s expression fell flat. He ignored Brack and turned to Granite. “Go on, then. I’ll be setting up camp here tonight.”

  Granite nodded without question and rowed the boat back to the ship. He didn’t care what the captain did with his free time, though the rest of the crew grew speculations in their heads on why Kazuaki stayed behind. Bermuda’s eyes lingered on the captain as the boat carried their bodies back to the ship. He never slept off the vessel. Kazuaki made eye contact with her the entire time, until she disappeared from his line of vision, into the darkness of the horizon.

  “I apologize that it took so long, Kazuaki. But now, on to your questions,” Umbriel said as she adjusted the clothing Elowyn gifted to her.

  Kazuaki shifted. An awkwardness existed as he stood before her. The captain knew how to demand results, but he did not know how to ask for them. He sighed at the unfamiliarity but did his best to remain gallant. “Forgive me for being straightforward, Umbriel. I’ve been searching for a solution for so long, and I must know,” he said. “Your gifts ... your healing abilities, in particular ... we’ve read about them, cataloged in an ancient text. You showed the wonders of your abilities this evening. I need to know their limits,” he finished, searching her eyes for her reply before she responded.

  “Oh, Kazuaki,” Umbriel replied, a soft glow about her, “I wouldn’t call them healing abilities. It’s more so manipulation of the cells and the surrounding tissues—anything that houses its own energy can be influenced to do what you want with the right—”

  “Umbriel,” Kazuaki interrupted, taking up her hands in his own. He held them close, ensuring her focus remained on him, “the source matters not. I don’t care how it’s done, just that it can be done.”

  Umbriel allowed him to collect her hands as she searched his eye for answers. “You're cursed,” she announced intuitively, feeling the warmth of his hands on her own.

  “Yes,” Kazuaki confirmed. He checked to be sure the boat was out of sight before he turned back to her. “But my concern does not reside with my troubles. It resides with Bermuda.”

  Umbriel’s expression of disquiet shifted to one of understanding. “Of course,” she whispered. She recalled the short time she spent with Bermuda and Elowyn in the woods. A supernatural force plagued the quartermaster. “She’s incomplete. There’s an absence in her heart.”

  “Aye,” the captain nodded, forgoing all questioning on how the Earth Mother knew. “Stolen by a bastard lesser god named Mimir, several years ago.”

  “Oh,” Umbriel frowned with pity. “Mimir, that unfortunate creature ... I knew of him. Condemned to suffer a thousand and one lifetimes,” she said as her eyes fell to the floor. “You and I know the difficulties of forcing an existence passed its expiration date, Kazuaki, but none so much as the old world gods. That poor demon was a creation of prayer. The people wanted a god who granted their desires, so they made one. He served them well. But once mankind discovered technology could answer their prayers for them, they forgot about Mimir. They damned their own creation to loneliness and bound him to his well. While I am certain he’s wronged you, you can scarcely hold him accountable. Mimir is a remnant of a forgotten time. His actions are guided by betrayal. He feels mankind abandoned him, and so he punishes them when they find their way to his well. If he has punished Bermuda, it’s only because it’s all he knows. He is a lesser god, Kazuaki, supreme and powerful. But anything created by man is susceptible to their flaws.”

  Kazuaki’s jaw clenched. The creature possessed Umbriel’s pity and understanding, but the captain did not practice the art of forgiveness. Mimir wronged him. More critical still, he wronged Bermuda. “With all due respect, Earth Mother, the circumstances which bred his insolence is none of my concern. I only wish to do away with the damage he’s caused to her heart.”

  Umbriel frowned for the first time since Kazuaki laid eyes on her. “Bermuda’s heart suffered long before Mimir placed his poison there,” she confessed. “You needn’t even be observant to feel it. She wears it like a piece of armor, visible to all who have eyes.”

  Kazuaki closed his eye and tried to reign in his frustration. He knew it would get him nowhere with this woman. He sighed, still clutching her hand in his. His grip tightened. “Umbriel,” he whispered, “this is of vital importance. I would not beg before my crew, but if you are confident you can help her, ask of me what you will. I would do anything.”

  The Earth Mother’s gaze softened as he surrendered his dignity. She felt his undying love for Bermuda. It compelled her. His sentiments were as tangible as anything she could reach out and touch. Umbriel sighed, “I can draw out the poison Mimir left in her heart, but I cannot replace what he took. Once the toxins are gone, it’ll be up to her brain to fill in those gaps. Results are not immediate; it’ll take time. But once the poison vanishes, Kazuaki, she will have to face the pain again ... and that is something only she can cure.”

  Kazuaki breathed a sigh of relief. He squeezed her hand and bowed his head. “Thank you. I’ll take whatever hope I can.”

  The Earth Mother smiled, but it faded. “Kazuaki ...” Umbriel trailed off, tilting her head to get a better look into his eye. “Mimir influences you as well, doesn’t he?”

  The captain hesitated. He lowered her hands and released them from his grasp. A look of burden found its way to his face. “Yes. Perhaps you would understand more than most,” he muttered, knowing she mirrored his condition. “I asked him to rid me of my immortality. I traded my eye for the ability to die. He granted it to me, I suppose ... in some way.” He touched the metal plate that hid beneath the cloth wrapped around his head.

  “He misled you,” she guessed.

  Kazuaki nodded. “Yes. He could not claim my soul at the moment, as I suspect he wanted. Someone else beat him to the punch,” the captain mused as he recalled the day with great clarity. “I didn’t know it at the time, but he placed a condition on me. Past choices leading to my immortality made my soul ... heavy. I had to cleanse it, effectively removing my prior curse before he could claim it for himself. He left me with a little gift to make it easier: an eye where my old one used to be. Those who make the unfortunate mistake of looking into it are beseeched with nightmares they think are real. Their misfortune lasts for but an hour before they regain composure, but each time I unleash darkness onto them, I feel my soul become lighter ... as if I burden the onlookers with the nightmares I have endured.”

  Kazuaki narrowed his eye. He felt the rage build up inside him at the thought. “Every time I lighten my soul of its nightmares, I walk one step closer to becoming Mimir’s property in the afterlife. He did as he said. He gave me the ability to die,” he explained, his eye glazing over. “But I will be condemned to spend my afterlife in his well. Exchanging one nightmare for another, I suppose. That’s why we arranged for this little protection plan,” he muttered, gesturing to the metal plate and patch covering his cursed eye. “If I can’t use the eye, I
can’t lighten the soul. If I can’t lighten the soul ...”

  “Mimir can’t claim it,” Umbriel finished, nodding as she understood the severity of the captain’s condition. Her expression shifted to one of relevance. “You must have come by your immortality in such a manner, Kazuaki, that even Mimir could not combat the strength of your curse.”

  Kazuaki squared his shoulders and sat back on the stump he made his chair. It had been a long time since he relived the moment of his initial curse. The tale was as unflattering as it was unfortunate. “It is ... unbecoming,” he admitted, lowering his arms to his lap.

  “As most curses are,” Umbriel observed as she sat beside him.

  Kazuaki glanced at the woman, knowing full well she expected an explanation. He took a moment to remember. It happened so long ago. “The sea always called me, even as a boy. I can’t remember where I hailed from ... what my parents’ names were ... but I remembered the sea. I reveled in it, in a time when the bounties of the water held value. Every day, I was on the ocean, dragging in fish to sell at the market. Our captain thrived on the income. Greed got the best of him, and though the sky showed signs of an oncoming storm, he ordered us back out to sea,” he closed his eye as if it helped him remember clearer. “The ship was cast ashore on a small piece of land, not far off Panagea, but too far to swim. Everyone on board drowned. Everyone but me. I must have sat on those shores for a week awaiting rescue, drinking rainwater I collected in leaves. A creature emerged from the waters one day,” he continued, a frown crossing his face. “I thought I’d gone mad from hunger and dehydration. Half fish, half woman. Everything about her was supernatural. We even spoke the same language. She lamented my misfortune ... I should have honored her presence, should have treated her with kindness ...”

  Umbriel tilted her head as she leaned closer to the captain. “But you did not?”

  “No,” Kazuaki muttered, hatred in his voice. “I killed her. And I ate her, to survive.”

  Umbriel did not move. She only listened.